The Silent "I"

To Blog or Not to Blog? That is the Question

For the past six months or so, I've contemplated shutting down my blog.  I've done a great deal of soul-searching about my motivation for doing it and whether or not it's worth it to me to continue.  I might be fine to just turn what I normally put on my blog into a series of endless tweets or Flickr stream or Facebook entries. Why bother blogging at all?

I started blogging in 2005, right after a trip to Louisiana to bring needed supplies to families hit hard by Hurricane Katrina.  I was President of our local Parent's Club at the time, a group with 2,000 members, a volunteer position that was more like running a corporation than a playgroup.  I started a blog because what I observed in Louisiana profoundly touched me to my being's core. I felt that that the stories of the people I met there deserved to be told.  I started a blog because many people supported my trip there, people who would have gone themselves had they had time and resources to go.  I felt I owed it to my community to record what I saw and how the money, the air mattresses, the cribs, the clothes, and all the $300,000 worth of items they donated were received. I wanted them to know that the $30,000 we raised in a one-day bake sale for the Red Cross was going to good use. It actually didn't occur to me that anyone who didn't know me would read my blog.

After writing about the trip, I realized that I loved writing. I loved the process of putting thoughts to words, to finding the right phrase or word to describe an experience or an emotion. I have always been a writer and a storyteller. 

Water, Water, Everywhere...And Now I Need a Drink

Ten day ago, I was taking a shower when I noticed that there was no hot water. I didn't think much of it, other than I should probably check out the waterheater.  I walked into the closet, and noticed that the carpet was soaking wet. I looked up, thinking that we must have a ceiling leak from all the rain the week before.  Somehow, 2 + 2 was not equaling 4 in this equation, and I didn't think the two things were connected.

Later, I was in the laundry room, and thought I heard water running inside our garage, so I went out to investigate.  What I found was a river running through our garage, winding its way through a canyon of boxes, old  furniture, and debris collected over the twelve years we've lived in the house.  The water was traveling through the garage and out onto the driveway.  I dug my way through the clutter in the garage to the mouth of the river: our decrepit, antique waterheater. I felt like Lewis & Clark forging their way to the Missouri River headwaters.

Frank was out of town, so I called a plumber, and after three tries, finally hit upon one with an emergency answering service.  I really think that Joe the Plumber should have stayed in his line of work and gotten a license. People need plumbers.  Pundits? Not so much. I've never heard anyone say, "If I don't see George Will or Arianna Huffington right this minute, I will certainly keel over dead."  They might, however, say, "There's a river running through my garage, and if I don't find a plumber soon, I may need a sailboat to get out of the house."

Bringing Snuggie Back

My son is an expert on "As Seen on TV" commercials.  Right before my birthday, he asked me, "Mom, don't you wish you had a Snuggie?"

"A what?" I asked.

"You know, one of those nice soft blankets with arms," he replied.

I told him that I could not see a need for a blanket with arms, since a blanket would do just fine.

"But if you have a Snuggie, you can go outside and roast marshmallows in it," he argued.

"Why would I do that?  I have a jacket.  Besides, when do we ever roast marshmallows outside?"

He wouldn't give up on this notion that what my wardrobe was missing was my very own Snuggie.  I had no idea what this was all about.

On my birthday, I found out why he was so sold on the many uses for the Snuggie...he and his dad surprised me with one as a gift (and Dad threw in a matching sapphire necklace to boot).

One thing the Snuggie ad doesn't mention is that you can achieve the great two-headed Snuggie look pictured here, just by cuddling up with your favorite little person on the couch.  Who knew it was so versatile?

The other day, Alex told me that my eyelashes looked a little "clumpy" and that he knew just the thing to fix that.  I guess Valentine's Day is just around the corner.  I'll try to act surprised.  In the meantime, I'll try to drop a few hints that what I really want is a Pancake Puffer.

A Natural Born Running Mate

At the end of 8th grade, I decided to run for Freshman Class President.  I narrowly won the election over a popular cheerleader whom everyone else thought was a shoe-in.  She was one of the ruling clique, dated the quarterback, and had a rich dad who drove a Corvette.  I was the brainy girl who organized charity events, had a motley, socially-awkward crew of equally brainy boys and girls, and whose dad drove a sensible Ford. I was deemed "exotic" due to my mixed Korean-Caucasian heritage, and thought the football team was full of hormonal nimrods. 

I put together a coalition of voters, befriending stoners, brainiacs, nerds, freaks, and pretty much everyone outside the social realm of the "in-crowd."  We were legion and we were pissed.  My message of "hope for the disenfranchised" and "change from the status quo" was well-received by people who were tired of being looked down upon by the ruling elite.  It was a sweet, sweet victory.

Our history teacher and class advisor was also the official vote-counter and announced my win.  Letting my political success go to my head, I joyfully told him, "Next stop, the White House!"

He laughed, and said, "I'd love to see you in the White House, but I'm afraid you would be disqualified since you were not a 'natural born citizen.'  The Constitution requires that you be born on American soil, and you were born in Korea, right?"

Now I Know How Angelina Jolie Feels

I had to go for my annual mammogram today.  It's one of those extra-special treats that you get after you turn 40, like hot flashes and unsightly hairs that show up in the oddest places.  There's nothing like standing topless and hugging a big, cold hunk of machinery that shoots out radiation while your boobs are being squashed into something resembling IHOP leftovers. 

The very nice technician had to prod my unruly breast onto the plastic plate, all the while telling me to "lift your right arm up, take one step forward, square your shoulders, and then hold your breath."  I did so without complaining, even though I was starting to wonder if this was a mammogram or the Hokey-Pokey we were doing here.

After my breast was firmly ensconced between the plastic plates, she stepped back and said, "If you don't mind my asking, weren't you in the newspaper last week?"

"Yes, that was me,"  I replied.  I'm not sure how she recognized me, since in the photo in the paper I happened to be fully clothed. She asked me about MOMocrats (the subject of the article in the San Jose Mercury News) and whether we were all for Obama.  I explained that we had all been for John Edwards, but now some supported Hillary and some supported Obama. 

There's nothing like a political discussion and a mammogram to really make your day.

Speaking of mammograms, click here to go to a site that gives free mammograms to women who can't otherwise afford them.  Consider this a reminder to schedule yours, too.

Interview with a Grandma

My son's second grade class is doing a project on family histories.  One of his recent homework assignments was to interview a grandparent.  He chose to interview my mom. 

Alex:  Where did you grow up?
Grandma:  In Korea.
Alex: Who did you live with?
Grandma:  My mom, my dad, 6 brothers, 6 sisters, and my old grandma.
Alex:  Do you think kids today are different from when you were a kid?
Grandma:  Yes, kids today have too much stuff.  They are too spoiled.  We didn't have much.  No toys, nothing.
Alex:  What did you like to play?
Grandma: We liked to jump rope.
Alex: AHA!  So you did have a toy.  You said you had a jump rope.
Grandma:  Well, we made it out of straw, Mr. Smarty.
Alex:  How did you do that?
Grandma:  We got straw out of the barn and wove it into a jump rope.  It was nothing fancy.  It fell apart and we had to make another one.
Alex:  What was your favorite memory of childhood?
Grandma:  We survived the Korean War.
Alex:  No, I mean, your favorite thing about your childhood.  Something good.
Grandma: We didn't die in the war.  That was the best thing I could think of.  In a war, anybody can die at anytime.  We were all together and alive at the end. That was enough for me.  What more could you want?

Cross-posted at Kimchi Mamas.

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PS: Moms, please click here to go to my review site, and help me win a Roomba to clean the cereal out from under the couch.  Otherwise, that sweet looking little lady in the picture above will be yelling at me in Korean the next time she visits.

My Life, The Sitcom: Austin

Back in the early 1990's, when I was a young, single woman, I lived in Austin, Texas.  One night, I was coming home from being out at a club and I saw someone lying in the road near my house.  I called 911 when I got home, since this was the era before cell phones. This is the conversation I had with the 911 operator, or at least this is how I remember it.

Me:  Hello?  I'd like to report that there's someone lying face down in the road near my house.
911 Operator: Is it a man or a woman?
Me:  I think it's a man.
911:  Is he dead?
Me:  I don't know.  He wasn't moving when I drove by.
911:  Was he bleeding?
Me:  Not that I could tell, but it was dark.
911: So why didn't you get out and help him?
Me: What?  Er...It's 3 am, and I'm by myself, so I didn't know if it would be safe to do that.
911: So there's a guy lying in the road near your house and you didn't think it would be safe to you know, maybe check and see if he was dead?
Me: No, I thought I'd leave it to the professionals to check and see if he was dead.  Are you going to send someone or not?  I just called to see if you could send a police car over to check on this person before someone runs over him.
911:  Oh, so you ran over him?  Is that why he's lying in the road? (laughs)
Me: ...
911:  Ma'am, are you still there?
Me: Yes.  I mean, no!  I most certainly did not run him over.
911:  No need to get all indignant on me ma'am.  I'm just kidding.  I need to know if I should send an ambulance, too.  If you ran over him, I'd need to dispatch an ambulance.
Me:  No, I did not run over him.  Look, if he stays out there while you try to figure out who to send over, he might get run over and if he's not dead now, then he will be. 
911:  You have a point. So what's the address of where this maybe dead/maybe not dead person is lying in the road?
Me: 5th and X St.
911:  Is he on the left or the right side of the street.
Me:  On the left.
911:  Your left or my left?
Me:  He's the only guy lying in the street.  You can't miss him.
911: I'll send over a cruiser to check it out. Have a nice night, ma'am.